Bones’s jaw dropped.
Eyes wide, Markie nodded at me.
“Good. Do that. Hurry.”
Ariana’s condition would bring enough drama down on them. I had a feeling Markie was only high from contact and that would clear up as soon as she got out of the apartment.
Markie rushed out of the bedroom.
Bones stared at me. I could tell he wanted to argue, but we didn’t have time for that crap, so I stepped up to the bed and bent to get my hands under Ariana.
“Get out of the way,” Bones growled. “I got her.”
He was pissed, but I’d have to fix that later. Right now, we needed to get Ariana to the hospital. Markie followed us out of the apartment, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, carrying a pair of sandals, and smelling fruity.
I sped the whole way to the hospital, but not fast enough to draw legitimate police attention. When I pulled up in front of the emergency room entrance, Bones jumped out and carried Ariana in with Markie hot on their heels. I parked the Hummer and hurried to join them, arriving in time to see Bones lowering Ariana onto a gurney. Nurses surrounded them.
Markie gave my arm a light squeeze, her gentle touch sending shivers up my spine. She smiled at me, revealing her heart-stopping dimples once again. “Thank you. Thank you both.”
Then she took a deep breath and followed the gurney as it was wheeled past the admittance doors.
I watched her go, somehow both grateful and grieved to see her walk away a second time.
“You’re doing that thing again,” Bones said.
“What thing?” I asked.
“Tugging at your collar. You did it in the pizzeria, then when Markie answered the door, and now you’re doing it again.”
I looked down, shocked to find that my fingers were—in fact—tugging at the dark T-shirt under my SWAT jacket. “The T-shirt’s too tight. Feels like it’s strangling me,” I said, forcing my hand to let go. We turned and walked back toward the emergency room doors. Real cops would show soon, and we needed to be gone before they did.
“You sure? Looks to me like you have a tell.”
“A tell?” I snorted. I lived in the gambling capital of the world and had a lifestyle where predictability led to death. If I had a tell, I would have known about it years ago. “No, I don’t.”
“As your personal bodyguard, it’s my job to tell you that you most definitely do.”
I climbed into the Hummer and started it up. “You’re being ridiculous. I just met her.”
Bones shrugged. “Yeah, and now you need to stay the hell away from her.”
I knew he was right, but his words made me bristle. “Oh? Why’s that?”
I merged into traffic and toward the strip, feeling his gaze boring into the side of my head.
“Because she’s the type of girl who’d be more interested in picking out rings than condoms.”
“And you got that from meeting her twice?” I asked.
He chuckled. “You know how good I am at reading people. Tell me I’m wrong, Angel.”
I couldn’t and he knew it. “Is that really a bad thing? I am getting a little tired of shopping for condoms.”
“Dangerous words, my friend. You remember One Nut Brizio, right?” Bones asked.
I groaned. A few years ago, a son of the Porta family named Brizio fell hard for a chick from out of town. As expected, Brizio’s father ran a background check on the girl, but she came out clean. Squeaky clean, in fact. The girl didn’t even have a speeding ticket. Since nobody was that clean, Brizio’s father pegged her for a cop or worse. He told Brizio to stay away from the girl, but Brizio chose to marry her instead. Turned out the girl was working for one of the other families. She was sent in to get intel, but ended up catching a feeling and blowing off her own family. She disappeared. Then Brizio’s father took a hit out on his own son’s testicles, declaring that his kid was too stupid to procreate. Losing one of his balls and his new wife sent Brizio over the edge. A couple of days later he put a gun in his mouth and joined her in the great dirt nap.
“Some real Romeo and Juliet shit, there,” I said. “Didn’t know you were such a romantic, Bones.”
He flipped me off. “I knew Brizio. Before that broad appeared and started messing with his head, he was a good guy. A stand-up guy. Don’t let this girl mess with your head, Angel.”
“What the hell, Bones? We’ve run into each other a couple of times. It’s not like I’m stalking her or something.”
He eyed me for a second before continuing as if I hadn’t spoken. “Look, if you’re really interested, let me do some checking into her. I’ll dig until I hit bedrock under her dirt, and then we can make sure it’s all stuff you can live with. Stuff the family will accept.”
A woman had caught my interest, so my best friend wanted to search her closet for skeletons. And they say romance is dead.
“You know, normal people get to know each other organically. They don’t start out the relationship knowing whether or not the other person cheated on their senior project or was molested by their uncle.”
I couldn’t care less about Markie’s past. I was interested in her future. More specifically, I wanted to know if I could possibly have a role in it.
“Yeah, we’ll you’re a Mariani.”
I tensed. “Do you think I forgot that?”
When he didn’t reply, I added. “No. No background check. I know who the hell I am, Bones. Why do you think I didn’t ask for her number? Not planning on running into her again.”
Although I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping for it.
“Tomorrow I’ll forget all about her and go back to my regularly scheduled life of criminal technology, building the toys that’ll help my father in his quest for world domination. Hey, look, I have a slogan now.”
Bones looked down. “Angel, I’m sorry, I—”
“You have to do your job. I know, Bones. It’s fine. I need some sleep. I’m done for the night, but don’t let me keep you from your plans. Drop me off and take the Hummer, okay?” I asked.
Bones had a car; a dark blue jeep which, for the most part, stayed parked in the apartment garage, since he stayed by my side and I drove a bullet-resistant monstrosity with run-flat tires and twenty-four-seven access to Tech. I offered him the use of the Hummer because I knew if he came upstairs to get his keys, he’d probably end up calling it a night. I wanted my friend to go out and enjoy himself, but my motives weren’t entirely unselfish. I could really use some time alone.
“I’m just going to go up and pass out,” I added.
“You sure?” he asked.
“Yes. Don’t make me order you to go out and have a good time.”
When I pulled up in front of our condo building, Bones pointed beneath my seat and said, “Take it.”
I reached down for the hidden panel and pressed my middle finger in the center of it. It read my fingerprint and popped open, revealing the Desert Eagle .50 caliber pistol inside. Bones handed me a windbreaker from the backseat that I slid over my flack vest. I slipped the pistol into the jacket pocket, put the car in park, and climbed out. Bones circled around and got behind the wheel. I felt him watching me as I entered the building, and greeted the dark-skinned, six-foot security guard who often pulled night duty on the weekends. Despite the security, I kept one hand wrapped around the pistol in my pocket until I checked the apartment. Once I verified I was alone, I stored the pistol in the nightstand beside my bed and hung up the windbreaker.
My mind wouldn’t stop spinning, so I opened a bottle of wine and clicked on the television. I watched old comedy show reruns and drank until the knot between my shoulders became a dull ache. I tried to drink until I stopped thinking about Markie, but I finished off the bottle of wine first. Tipsy and exhausted, I crawled into bed.
That night I dreamed of a beautiful, dimpled blonde waving good-bye as she walked away from me, and when I woke up the next morning, I had convinced myself I was happy to see her go.
CHAPTER
NINE
Angel
SUNDAYS HAVE ALWAYS been a big deal for my family, full of homemade breakfast, mass, after-church gelato, and then dinner with family, extended family, and friends. The women crowded the kitchen, gossiping while they crafted homemade pasta and simmered sauces and the men watched football in the den or helped father work the grill in the backyard. As a child, I used to follow the old man around with a tray full of seasonings and a pair of heavy metal grilling tongs, beaming with pride at the chance to help him. Looking back, I see that even then, he was grooming me to work with him. Father had groomed Dante in the same way, and now it was Georgio’s turn. Bones and I set trays of homemade bruschetta al pomodoro down on the table while I watched my baby brother follow Father around, carting tray and tongs, waiting to be of use.
“He’s growing up,” Bones observed, following my gaze.
I frowned, saddened by the truth of it. “Yeah, he is.”
“And what’s going on there?” Bones asked, nodding toward my father.
The old man’s entourage of ass-kissers swept in around him, led by Renzo, my third cousin who was currently clawing his way to the top of the pecking order. Childhood memories included glimpses of Renzo being a decent human being—laughing, playing catch, and building forts with me and the other cousins—but he was no longer that kid. Now he was just another thug in a suit, trying to make a name and a dollar for himself. Desperate to avoid Renzo and his fellow goons, I headed for the swimming pool while Bones drifted off to go look menacing with the other security guards.
Hidden from view by the gate, I kicked back in a lawn chair and tried to relax. The setting sun had dropped the temperature down to a comfortable level somewhere in the low eighties. Still, I fought the urge to tug off my loafers and socks, roll up my slacks, and dip my toes into the cool water. Instead, I blocked out the conversations from the deck, closed my eyes, and reveled in the peaceful solitude of the moment.
Thoughts of Markie crept into my mind. Curious, I slipped my phone out and googled “Markie Lynn Davis.” I got a couple of hits, started clicking them, and then felt someone behind me. I dropped my phone face down on my lap, and turned.
“What are you doing?” Bones asked, eyeing me.
I shrugged, knowing I’d been caught, but still trying to save face. “Just checking a few things out.”
Bones sat on the chair beside me, and leaned forward. “Some ‘things’ or ‘someone’?” he asked.
I shrugged again, wishing I could come up with a witty response, but I had nothing.
Bones grumbled a warning about having my nuts removed and stormed off.
Forcing myself to ignore the temptation of my phone, I closed my eyes again. It wasn’t too long before I felt the presence of company once again. Through half-lidded eyes, I watched as my baby sister tip-toed toward the shallow end of the swimming pool, watching me as she went. She wore a green satin dress that came to her knees and her long dark curls had been confined in a braid and secured by a ribbon that matched her dress. She kicked off shiny black shoes, hiked up her dress so she wouldn’t sit on it, and plopped down on the side of the pool. Then she gently lowered her feet into the water, sighing deeply.
“Better be careful,” I said.
Luciana jumped, letting out a little squeak. “Angel! You scared me. I thought you were asleep.”
“That was the goal. I was waiting to see if you were going to jump in.”
Again, she sighed. “I wish. Stupid Sunday dinners.”
“I thought you liked Sunday dinners.”
“Yeah, well Mom says I have to help in the kitchen. I tried, but all the women want to do is talk, and whenever I say something, they get all mad and tell me I shouldn’t gossip.”
I tried to swallow back a chuckle, but Luciana cast me a sideways glare to let me know she’d heard it.
“Why don’t you have to help the guys—,” she glanced over her shoulder at the men on the patio, “—with whatever?”
I shrugged. “When you move out of the house, you get a little more latitude.”
“Yeah? Well, I can’t wait to move out. Then I can just swim when I come home.” She crossed her arms and stared longingly at the pool.
I didn’t have the heart to tell her she wouldn’t get that much latitude.
Rachele called for Luciana from the kitchen.
My baby sister laid a finger to her lips to hush me and ducked down, hidden from view by the knee-high cobblestone divider that separated the pool from the lawn. Then she looked over her shoulder at the bushes surrounding the yard. I could almost see the wheels spinning in her head as she calculated whether or not she could make it into hiding before her mother spotted her.
“The bushes would tear your dress,” I warned. “Then you’ll really be in trouble.”
Her shoulders drooped. Head tilted to the side, she asked, “Angel, what’s ee’s dropping?”
“Eavesdropping?” I asked.
She flung up her hands in a gesture way too dramatic for a seven-year-old. “Whatever.”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because Mom and Aunt Mona were talking to Sonia about a boy and I tried to tell Sonia that boys were stupid. Then Mom got all mad and shushed me. She told me not to eeeeevees drop, but I didn’t drop anything.”
Fighting to keep from laughing, I stood and collected her shoes. Then I walked over and offered her a hand. “Eavesdropping, Luci. It means listening in on a conversation you shouldn’t be.”
“Well that’s stupid,” she replied. “Why would they talk right in front of me, if they don’t want me to listen?”
From the mouths of babes.
“I don’t know. Doesn’t make sense to me either. But you better go help your mom before you get in trouble. You don’t want to end up spending the evening in your room.”
“Maybe I do. It’s a lot more fun in my room than it is in the kitchen,” she argued.
I kissed her on the forehead. “Yeah, but I barely get to see you anymore. Dinner’s gotta be almost ready, and I want to sit by my beautiful little sister.”
“Fine.” She trudged toward the house like a captured inmate heading back to her prison cell. She was almost to the door when she paused and called over her shoulder, “But it’s a good thing I love you, Angel.”
Laughing, and feeling lighter after the sweet interaction I’d desperately needed, I straightened my suit and went to see what the men were up to. Cousin Alberto stood in the corner, talking politics with the neighbor. I stayed well away from that conversation and made a beeline for the grill. Father had everything under control, but Uncle Carlo showed up with Nonna and a car full of fresh pastries. Bones and I hurried out to help unload trays of homemade cannoli, frittole, and macaroons.
Helping Nonna came with tasty benefits. She kissed my cheek and popped a frittole in my mouth before offering one to Bones. Still warm from the oven, the Italian fried donuts filled with custard and sprinkled with sugar lifted my spirit even more.
Dante opened the door for us, talking on his phone. “Hold on a sec, babe,” he said into the phone, then covered the mouthpiece with his hand and flashed me a smile. “Hey, Angel. Bones.” Then he put the phone back up to his ear and resumed his conversation, heading out the door we’d just come in.
Bones leaned over and muttered, “Looks like Dante has a more active social life than you do.”
I shrugged him off, knowing even seven-year-old Georgio probably had more game than me, and continued on into the kitchen.
The cool evening was inviting, so we ate alfresco by candlelight. Salads, pastas, breads, wine, and conversation flowed for hours. Then Nonna pulled out her fabulous desserts and guilted everyone into trying at least one of everything. By the time Uncle Mario started strumming his guitar to provide us with after-dinner music, I was one breath away from a food coma. Bones sat beside me with his head lulling to the side, occasional streams of drool sliding down his chin. At seven fifty-five, Luciana and Georgio bounded onto the chai
r beside me and begged me to tuck them in. It took a couple tries to stand up, but once I finally did, I grabbed a sibling under each arm and carted them into the house and up the stairs.
“Story, story, story!” they chanted in unison.
Resistance was futile, so I grabbed Where the Wild Things Are from their bookshelf and collapsed on Luciana’s bed. My two favorite monsters piled on top of me and I read until they passed out and I was in danger of joining them. I carried Georgio to his own bed and headed back downstairs to say my good-byes and collect Bones.
Bones was in the middle of a game of horseshoes with Uncle Carlo and a few of my father’s goons, cash piled high on the card table beside the horseshoe pit attesting to the seriousness of the game. I stood back and watched the men pitch horseshoes for a moment, ready to head home but not wanting to interrupt.
Father joined me, keeping one eye on the game. “You wanna put some money on this action?” he asked.
“No sir.” Lowering my voice so only my father could hear, I added, “Uncle Carlo is playing them. I wouldn’t want to bet on him and tip them off, and I sure as hell won’t bet against him.”
Father chuckled, clapping me on the back. “Wise man. Never bet against the family.”
I nodded. It was the first lesson he’d taught me, and he’d given it while standing over the mutilated body of one of his enforcers. The second lesson was our Omertà, or code of silence, a Sicilian proverb that states “He who is deaf, blind, and silent will live a thousand years.” That one he’d delivered before sending me off with Cousin Alberto to hunt down a rat.
Every one of his lessons was burned into the back of my brain, and I could tell by his expression that he was about to give me another. Dread crept up my spine.
“So, what’s going on with that phone deal you made with your buddy Johnny?” Father asked.
I inwardly groaned, wanting to discuss anything but the phone deal. It had been almost two weeks since the family had lifted a hundred and fifty newly-released cell phones. I’d been brought in on the deal because each of the phones came with a built-in tracking device. Removing them without giving away our location had been tricky and included a four-hour ride in the back of a box truck with a chip fryer. Father had asked me to recommend a buyer, and because I wanted to impress him with my contacts, I suggested a loosely-connected fence by the name of Johnny Dominas.
Making Angel (Mariani Crime Family #1) Page 7
